Clutching Lin Lan's small hand tightly, Chen Hai was chatting with her.
Suddenly, he realized that the small hand he was holding was dry and thin, resembling a bird's claw.
Looking up, the person whose hand he was holding was not Lin Lan at all but rather a gaunt old lady, with only a layer of skin covering her bones.
Even with Chen Hai's iron will and strong psychological resilience, he couldn't help shuddering when suddenly facing such a situation, and he flung the hand he was holding aside.
"Chen Hai, what are you doing? Why did you suddenly fling my hand away?" Lin Lan's voice reached his ears.
Rubbing his eyes, Chen Hai opened them again to see Lin Lan looking at him with a puzzled face; the old lady he had just seen was nowhere in sight.
"Is an illusion affecting my perception?" he frowned and thought to himself.
He actually knew a few similar tricks himself; it was precisely because of this that he immediately thought of this explanation.